


Five Moments Honoria Remembers Well (And a Man She Can Actually Respect)

by Niektete (therealfroggy)



Category: Jeeves & Wooster
Genre: Drabble Sequence, F/M, Minor Character(s)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-26
Updated: 2012-12-26
Packaged: 2017-11-22 10:55:23
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 529
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/609060
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/therealfroggy/pseuds/Niektete
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Five drabbles centred around Honoria Glossop, one of Wodehouse's minor characters who rarely gets enough attention.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Five Moments Honoria Remembers Well (And a Man She Can Actually Respect)

_Autumn Leaves_  
There's nothing like the crisp air of October, when the trees begin to yellow and the hunting is in its best season.

“Isn't that right, Brutus?” Honoria says and releases his leash. The big pointer wags his tail and searches for the scent of small game, and Honoria wonders why women sometimes compare men to dogs – unfavourably, at that. Dogs are lovely creatures; loyal and eager and never spineless. And they're easier to train than men.

Honoria watches Brutus pick up scent and decides she'll never marry a man who's not at least as clever as a pointer.

“Heel, boy!”

 

 _Problem_  
“Honoria, darling? Come join us in the study; there's someone I want you to meet.”

“Who is it?”

“Oh, you'll like him, he's a charming young man. His name is Smith-Hursthouse, and his father's got a large estate up north with very fine stables...”

“Oh, mother! I don't want to marry, and certainly not someone named Smith-Hursthouse!”

“You will be twenty-five next month, Honoria.”

“Oh, very well, I'll meet the bounder.”

Honoria doesn't like to think of herself as ill-humoured, but having to be polite to the seemingly never-ending stream of potential suitors her parents invite 'round to the house, is more than she needs to become quite the raging amazone.

 

 _Handshake_  
“Delighted to meet you, Miss Glossop.”

His handshake is wonderfully firm. Despite his absolutely ridiculous headgear, he looks positively dashing in his simple suit.

“Oh, please call me Honoria.”

Honoria smiles as carefully as she can. She's usually never this forward, but this American cowboy her parents met when they were last in New York seems to be melting her manners.

“Do you ride, Mr. Harris?”

“I sure do, Miss Honoria; I got a ranch back home. You like horses?”

As they set a date for her to show him a proper English fox hunt, Honoria resists the urge to fan herself. What a man.

 

 _Stubble_  
Bill Harris doesn't shave before hunting, apparently. Honoria watches, almost transfixed, as this rugged, Southern cowboy saddles his own horse easily, his strong jaw covered in a brown, bristly morning shadow.

He's so, so... rugged.

“Mr. Harris...”

She doesn't quite know what to say, but she wants to tell him quite a few things. Like how his unshaven appearance is more appealing than any smooth, city-dwelling suitor has ever been.

“Yes, Miss Honoria?”

He looks hopefully at her, and Honoria feels herself blush even as she smiles helplessly. Then he takes her hand and kisses it. Lingers.

“Oh, Bill.”

 

 _Angel_  
That awful chump Little once called her a tender goddess. Honoria pretended not to hear him, but she's always wondered: what on earth possessed the man to call her such a silly thing? She doesn't mind anyone calling her a goddess, but she isn't tender and she never has been. Blossoms are tender; Madeline Bassett – whomever thought they would make great friends, was positively certifiable – is tender; a good steak is tender. Honoria Glossop is not tender.

Bill calls her angel. Honoria smiles. An arch angel, maybe, with a sword and shield. She likes a man who can see her finer qualities without being out of his wits.


End file.
